


French Kissing, the End of the World, and Other Impossible Ordeals

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: - by Uchiha Sasuke [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Don’t copy this work to another site, F/M, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Smitten Uchiha Sasuke, That's it, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Uchiha Sasuke Being an Asshole, grumpy asshole/cheerful optimist, that's the fic, turns out this fic is literally just Sasuke being soft for Naruto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: This is it, centuries of excellent genetics, of carefully selected marriages to maximise the potential of future generations  and it’s going to be Sasuke who introduces idiocy to the Uchiha bloodline.The ancestors must be rolling in their graves.In which Sasuke is smitten, Naruto is a badass, and timetravel happens.
Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Series: - by Uchiha Sasuke [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640212
Comments: 479
Kudos: 2621
Collections: All Time Travel All the time, Best of Fanfiction, Naruto Wonderland





	1. Chapter 1

“Well shit.”

Blowing a bang from its placement over his eyes, Uchiha Sasuke peers at the source of that particular declaration as every muscle in his body screeches. 

“Well shit.” he parrots mockingly, “This is all your fault.”

Across the patch of scorched earth that separates them, Uzumaki Naruto groans into the ground hair spilling over her back in one great, golden lake. She can’t even find the strength to lift her head. It is this fact that pushes Sasuke into rising, even as his arms scream in defiance. It takes two attempts, but he finally manages to orienteer himself into a slouch that a half-blind man may potentially label a sitting position. Naruto remains face down on the ground.

It’s what she deserves.

“I’m sorry time-travel isn’t a smooth ride. I’ll try to do better next time,” she snarks, words muffled by both the ground and the mass of hair. It goes unsaid between the two of them how time-travel has never been accomplished before. How it has never been done and been deemed impossible by the greatest charka theorists.

It is with a defeated half groan that Sasuke accepts his lot in life.

“When are we?”

“Kurama said we had enough juice for five or so years.” Right, five or so years. That’s… that’s graduation-ish time… he thinks.

Head pounding, Sasuke peers at their surroundings, his heart plummeting when it lands on the mass of thick, spikey white hair. The owner of said hair is goggling at them.

Shit, have they said anything more incriminating than mentioning time-travel?

“Sasuke. Sasuke. Help me up. Sasuke, you damn Uchiha!” Fucking hell.

“Well done, Naruto,” Sasuke hisses, eyes swirling into the Mangekyō.

Jiraiya of the Sannin doesn’t have enough time to tear his eyes away from the change of black to red before he’s thrown into an illusion and Sasuke’s thrown into a splintering headache.

When he wakes up, they’re in a different location. Naruto is sprawled out again but she’s on a bed this time. There’s no Jiraiya present and for that, Sasuke’s thankful. How they got here, he doesn’t know, but he’s past asking after miracles now. Not when they’re fiveish years in the past and he’s going to have to start pulling them out his own ass to change things around.

Itachi’s alive. Itachi’s alive and he’s dying from disease and there’s Tsunade running around somewhere and Sasuke knows exactly where his priorities lie. If he knows Naruto’s, however, is a different matter.

Fuck. He can do this without Naruto, he can.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to.

Urgh. Co-dependency. How horrific. Especially given-

Sasuke looks to his companion through time, taking in the pillow marks on her cheek, the drool dribbling out of her open mouth to pool on the mattress.

Fuck. How is he co-dependent on that? Of all beings, Naruto? Really?

Oh god. Undead Itachi was right. He’s in love with her.

God, how can he be in love with the idiot? This is it, centuries of excellent genetics, of carefully selected marriages to maximise the potential of future generations of Uchihas and it’s going to be Sasuke who introduces idiocy to the Uchiha bloodline. The ancestors must be rolling in their graves.

And that’s if he even manages to woo the girl. His chances are good. Sure, he’s got a lot to make up for but, as stated previously; Naruto’s an idiot. She’ll be stupid enough to welcome him with open arms, no matter what he’s done.

Fuck. He doesn’t deserve her.

He wants her anyway.

“Oi, Sasuke. You alive?”

“Don’t talk.” Listening to her voice hurts. Why is she so loud? Does he really want to live with that for the rest of his life? Oh God, he does, doesn’t he?

With his head still threatening to tear itself in two, Sasuke shuffles about on the bed until he’s sitting up, belatedly noticing they’re on a double bed. They’re sharing a bed, fully clothed though they may be.

It’s bloody hard to believe he was in a warzone just hours ago. Or maybe its not; doesn’t the mind focus on distractions instead of dealing with trauma? And Sasuke’s got a fuck ton of trauma. Buckets and buckets of the stuff. Maybe a distraction will do him some good.

“Oi. Bastard!”

“Naruto, for fuck’s sake, some quiet. Please.” He stresses the ‘please’, draws it out for a long while in hopes she’ll have the decency to not interrupt him. It goes without saying that she’ll respond to him; she’s Naruto, silence is an abstract concept that she’s never had to puzzle over, let along take part in.

This must be his first miracle though, because she doesn’t speak. Even if this is the only one he pulls off, this Sasuke can live with that right now. Thank fuck. He’s so tired and so achy and Naruto’s so delightfully warm.

Wait-

Peeling one eyelid back, Sasuke peers blearily at the blonde fluffy a few inches from his face. The electric blue eyes would be fucking startling if it weren’t for the fact he honestly could not care less right now. If Tobi and Zetsu had moved their plans forwards however many years and Kaguya was subjecting the entirety of the world’s population outside, the most effort Sasuke would go to in order to deal with it would be to shut the blinds. As that’s not a problem, he can’t be arsed to get up and shut out the dawning (dusking?) sun.

“Sleep now, save the world later,” he grumbles, closing his eyes again and daring to nudge that little bit closer to Naruto. As usual, she takes the slightest hint for physical contact as an open invitation, come-one-come-all, let’s go the full hog. You get the drift.

Her arms worm their way around him, pressing against his tender (broken, they’re probably broken) ribs. Then, he gets a noseful of hair as her empty head is forcibly shoved beneath his chin, the motion rattling all his teeth something horrible. Sasuke doesn’t care anymore.

The world can hold itself together for a few hours (days). Right now, he’s going to get some well needed rest.


	2. Chapter 2

“Fuck,” Sasuke says it softly, but with feeling. Deep, deep feeling.

Jiraiya of the Sannin sits upon the ledge of their window, a scroll out and what looks suspiciously like a vial of blood.

That’d explain the pain in his shoulder. The additional pain that is. It hadn’t been one of his many, many injuries when he had fallen asleep… some time ago.

How much time has passed? He doesn’t know. Enough time for Naruto to heal, that much is obvious. He wiggles his feet until they’re pressing against her deliciously warm shins. Perfect. She doesn’t wake, just makes a wordless whine of complaint but, otherwise, allows his feet to remain in place. Do all Jinchūrikis run this warm? Not that he cares; this is the one he wants.

God, Itachi’s always right, even when he’s dead. Damn it.

“Fuck is about right,” Jiraiya muses, surprisingly serious. Then again, Sasuke had only met him when he was twelve and it’d been in passing. More of a ‘this idiot is Naruto’s mentor? Figures’ kind of way. It hadn’t been until he’d spent time with Orochimaru that he’d come to realise just how well the idiot had lucked out by getting the Sannin on board. Though, given that she’s the daughter of the Fourth, it makes a hell of a lot more sense with foreknowledge.

They’re gonna be avoiding Edo Tensei this time around. Sasuke is perfectly content with his future father-in-law being dead. Which leaves this one as the only male relative, genetically or not, to deal with.

He can handle the Toad Sage. Maybe.

Once the room stops spinning.

“So, time travel, eh?” Jiraiya muses, acting as if this isn’t the strangest thing in the world, as if his god-daughter weren’t sprawled all over Sasuke’s half-dead form. “Are you sure?”

“You still thirsting after Tsunade?” God, even his voice is wrecked. War zones suck. War zones with no breaks suck. War zones with no breaks and then immediate time travel after is the ultimate suck. And there goes his ability to form coherent sentences. God, it’s like the more time he spends in Naruto’s presence, the more brain cells he loses.

“You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t ya?”

Naruto wakes up. Not quick enough, not alert enough. But she wakes up. Sasuke happily leaves her to deal with the situation so he can further bury himself in the pillows and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist for a little while longer.

Forever is too big an ask.

“So, we’ve got a plan.”

Sasuke listens as Naruto explains, unbelievable full of energy despite the fact they’ve bene through the same time-travel experience and Sasuke is utterly shattered. They’re going to pose as their own older siblings (and given they’re actually six years into the past, he’ll be Itachi’s older brother by a year too and fuck if that isn’t a mind-bender) who were sent away from the village for different reasons and entrusted to Jiraiya’s care. Thanks to the fuckery of the Fourth War, Naruto has the other half of the Kyūbi sealed in her instead of the original one she’d had (Yes, Jiraiya had goggled at that one; Sasuke’s very determinedly compartmentalizing how close Naruto came to death so he can deal with it during his next mental breakdown), so that gives her a reason to be out of the village as a brat. After all, who knew how two halves of the Kyūbi, freshly sealed, would react to each other in close proximity?

As for Sasuke himself-

“Let’s have a look then!”

The cheerful chirp is the only warning he gets before his left eye is being forcibly pried open.

Generations of inborn instincts scorch through Sasuke’s veins; it’s only Naruto’s quick reflexes that save Jiraiya from being violently skewered.

“Right, right, right.” The absolute idiot (no wonder Naruto didn’t improve in anything but fighting during those two years if this was her example in all his amentia) who thought touching a Uchiha’s eyes without fair warning, permission, and at least a decade of goodwill under their belt was a good idea sits himself up. ”Uchiha,” he says it like explains everything.

Fair point. It probably does.

“Don’t. Touch. My. Eyes.”

“Don’t need to now that you’re awake, Sleeping Beauty. And would you look at that, one Rinnegan. The perfect excuse to be out of the village with me, given I trained another with those eyes!”

“We know,” Sasuke deadpans, peeling himself from the bed to stand because it’s clear as fuck he’s not gonna be getting anymore sleep now, not when planning is in session. Though he’s not too sure why they need to be planning. Why does it matter if people believe they’re Sasuke and Naruto from the future? They’re already gonna be fucking with the timeline just by being here, so why shouldn’t they go the whole hog? He wants Danzo nervous, wants his enemies to tremble in fear over what secrets he may know. He wants Itachi to know he’s coming for him, even if the other won’t be aware it’s to save him, will probably think he’s still bent on revenge.

Naruto drapes herself across his side. If he could actually support her weight it full, he gladly would. As things stand, he’s weak as a newborn foal and needs to lean on the bedside cabinet for support.

He still wraps an arm around Naruto’s waist because why the fuck not? If she wants to be close, Sasuke’s gonna take all the contact he can get. From the look on the Toad Sage’s face, he knows it too. Sasuke flashes him a smirk and clings that little bit closer.

“We wanna surprise Zetsu, get the drop on him. Once that fucker’s outta the way, it’ll be plain sailing for everything else!” Sasuke’s not too sure about that, but as long as Madara isn’t resurrected, then the only one they’ll have any real issues with is Tobi. Obito. His deranged as fuck cousin.

Though, if he lost Naruto, Sasuke can kinda understand (that’d break him. Then, it’d break the world through him).

“Our younger selves?” He supposes it will be a bit difficult to kill them off. Well, not him; he’s pretty certain he can manage killing his younger self, fuck whatever paradox that’ll create. But younger Naruto? He’d sooner burn the entire village down. And Naruto has no hope in hell of killing a child, even if that child is herself.

Plus, there’s the whole Kyūbi thing with her; probably best not to go down that avenue. And he can’t imagine Itachi’d be happy about it either, even if it is literally him doing the killing.

Tricky.

“That, my sore-headed friend, is where the Great Jiraiya-sama comes in!”

It’s a seal. A seal that’ll make him refer to her as Asura and himself as Indra. And one for her, vice versa. It sucks because he can’t even manage to think the right name mentally now. He looks over and it’s Asura he thinks of when he reaches for a name. Internally, he cannot even get his own right.

It would seem that, for better or worse, he’s now Uchiha Indra.

New name for new mistakes. How poetic.

Indra kicks Jiraiya out. Takes great pleasure in it. Seal done, a semblance of a backstory (that he could have done without but apparently this’ll keep the Leaf off the whole ‘hunt down and breed the Uchiha’ business) and even a promise to check in with them later; all sorted. And now?

Now, Indra’s gonna sleep for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on;  
Indra - time-traveller Sasuke  
Asura - time-traveller Naruto  
Naruto - little Naruto  
Sasuke - little Sasuke


	3. Chapter 3

Over the years, Indra has come to realise that if you say things with enough confidence, people’ll believe you, no matter how ridiculous it seems. So, when the mercenaries that they’ve taken down ask if they’ll be spared in exchange for information, he’s not even surprised they accept his nonsense ‘yes’ as the truth.

Unfortunately, so does Asura.

“What?! That’s not right! They were kidnapping and selling children!”

She’s so righteous and bright. How on earth she’s lived this long as a ninja, Indra cannot even begin to guess.

Oh, wait, yes he can. Sheer, dumb luck. 

Indra wishes, dearly wishes, he could roll his eyes at her naïveté. Even now, after half a decade as a ninja, she still believes the simplest of lies. Then, he does roll is eyes because there’s nothing stopping him and he’s past pretending his world doesn’t revolve around her. Nothing can stop him now and that’s kind of liberating.

He gets his information, they get a genjutsu-induced death, and Asura gets money for ramen. Everyone that walks away does so happy. 

“So,” Asura chimes, bouncing along the path beside him, hands clasped before her and a smile on her face. She looks so beautiful. “What’s the first task? We’re taking down Zetsu first, right?” 

Yes, that will have to be the first one they take down, given he’s (it’s?) the one pulling the strings from the back. No one else realises they’re dancing to another’s script. One in which an act saw the slaughter of his clan.

Zetsu. Tobi. Danzō. Orochimaru. All those involved in the murder of his clan, those who desecrated their bodies, used them for parts of sick experiments. 

Indra will have all their heads. One after the other. 

However, it’s one thing to say something, another thing altogether to track the fuckers down and make them pay... this was a lot easier when people pointed him at a target and said ‘kill’, even if they were using him for their own means. 

“We need to find them first,” Indra reminds her, resigning himself to close proximity with his own personal sunshine when Asura latches onto his arm. Her own brushes against his sides and he forces back the sharp inhale, ribs wrapped tight but still tender to the touch. 

“Hey, I shaved my legs yesterday!” Asura announces this as if it is a personal triumph, hopping along beside him to better shove one of said legs in his general direction. Utterly forgetting she’s wearing long trousers.

Indra stops, for its obvious they won’t be continuing until they get past this derailing in the conversation.

“And?” 

“And, I haven’t been able to do that in at least a fortnight because of the whole war thing and now, now I’m silky smooth!” She whips up the hem of one trousers leg, exposing a stretch of smooth skin before the excess material goes taunt on her muscled calf. 

Indra takes a hold of her ankle, other hand running the tips of his fingers across the tanned flesh. Then, he lifts her foot high, throwing Asura off balance and sending her sprawling onto the dirt path with a satisfying ’oomph’. 

“Indra, you bastard!” 

“Tch, idiot.” He’s not going to comment on how silken her leg had felt beneath his touch because... because why should he? And, then again, why shouldn’t he? 

“You’ve got nice legs but you don’t need to throw them under the nose of every man you see, idiot.”

“I- hell yeah I’ve got nice legs!” She’s back on her feet now, threading her fingers through his to better pull him along. His ribs ache but Indra continues on without voicing it. They’ll heal. Eventually. “But yours is the only nose I’m gonna be shoving them under!” She tweaks said nose, wearing that stupid grin that crinkles her eyes, cheeks round and pink with the strain of her happiness. 

God, she’s got no idea, does she? She wouldn’t be saying shit like that if she knew just how far gone he is on her. 

The old Indra would order her to focus on the task at hand. The old Indra would distract and detract, anything to get out of showing emotions, showing bonds. Anything to prevent Asura from realising just how deep he’s fallen for her, lost in a hole with no way out.

He’s not the old Indra any more though; he’s even got a new name, can’t even think about using the old one.

“Good.” He doesn’t say anything to her about waiting for the appropriate time, doesn’t say anything about losing himself in her once this whole ‘save the world shit’ is over and done with.

He’s done denying anything and everything. Done denying her and himself.

If Asura wants to climb into the bed of the next hotel they stop at, then Indra won’t be the one to stop her, just welcome her with open arms and curl up around her to pretend the world doesn’t exist…

But he knows her too well. Asura won’t stop until she’s completed her self appointed task. He’s not too sure why it has to be them; as long as they take out the Akatsuki, then everything else will sort itself out… right?

“Bastard, don’t go saying weird things like that,” Asura grumbles, pulling a little harder on his arm so that they’re walking side by side. “Zetsu should be first, but we shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to take out others if we get the chance!”

Indra stares. Because what whack dimension is she living in to think chances to complete her goal will just walk out of the undergrowth, stop before her and gawk freely so she can use them as a freshly painted kunai target?

A moment after the thought has passed, Hidan walks out of the undergrowth, stops before them and then proceeds to gawk freely, imitating a freshly painted kunai target.

Unbelievable.


	4. Chapter 4

“What the fuck is your luck?” Indra hisses, head shaking as he makes his way across the dirt path to a fallen tree. He shrugs off the pack (one Jiraiya had given him, which really only contains a bed roll and a few storage scrolls with everything else in) and drops down to sit on the worn trunk, sword by his side. Indra runs a hand through his bangs, laughing in disbelief.

Had he stuck with the Leaf Village, would he have just crossed paths with Itachi at the perfect moment? With Asura as company, it would seem so. Utterly unbelievable.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Hidan snarls, brandishing the scythe in his hands and Indra looks to the sky, contemplating praying for patience. His eyes land on the moon, a thin sliver of a crescent and his mouth turns in a firm, downwards frown. Fuck praying when that’s the only god up there. He’ll take his chances on a life without any gods.

“Your worst fucking nightmare, ‘ttebayo!” And she’s off, pack hitting the floor a moment after her fist collides with Hidan’s face.

She makes good contact, there’s a satisfying crack that must be his cheekbone, a wild smile on Asura’s face. Fuck, she looks very attractive mid-fight. How has he never noticed that?

Oh yeah, he’s always been busy being the one dodging those tiny fists. He should watch her more often, it’s much better being on the side-lines.

Shifting his weight about until it no longer stresses his ribs, Indra settles in for a fight, chakra pooling behind his eye-sockets but not yet activated. Just in case. He’s relatively certain he won’t have to interfere, relatively certain Asura will crush this one like she does all her opponents in the end (or convert them, but he’d rather not have this psycho on their side and he thinks Asura agrees with that), but it never hurts to be prepared.

There’s a thunderous bang, the two of them separating with the force of the blow and Indra watches as a Rasengan blooms to life in her hand, wind chakra following up a moment later. Now that, that’s impressive. Probably terrifying to be on the other end of, especially when it gets thrown at you like that, but hey, Indra’s not been in that boat yet. He has no plans to be either. He’s perfectly content on watching the destruction that particular attack causes from behind Asura’s back.

Hidan goes down and he goes down hard. Once again, unsurprising, but isn’t this supposed to be one of the immortal ones? Hey, he’d done his research prior to hunting down Itachi but, upon learning this one was dead (out of commission?) he’d not put too much effort into remembering the key details. He’d been much more concerned with-

With the figure walking out the bushes right now.

Fuck.

What the actual fuck?

What else is there to do, other than laugh at the fact Uchiha Itachi has just walked in on this fight, walked onto this dirt path to find Indra sitting on his makeshift bench losing his marbles as Asura mops the floor with Hidan (who isn’t an Akatsuki member then, given his lack of cloak?). He barely offers enough focus to register the blue haired woman and the semi-masked one (not Tobi, not Indra’s immediate problem), too busy trying to contain his hysterical laughter at the behest of his aching ribs.

“Eh? Little Itachi?” Asura babbles because of course she does. His brother is (Indra performs some very quick mental maths, nose scrunching with the thought) sixteen right now and doesn’t seem to have grown at all since killing the rest of the Uchiha clan.

Huh. Maybe he hits a growth spurt this year? He must do because at the moment, he’s the same height as Asura. He’s shorter than Indra himself and that’s a mind fuck and a half.

“Idiot,” Indra scoffs but it’s clear his favourite idiot in the whole world is sufficiently distracted from her fight and it won’t be long until Hidan gets up and goes for her, despite what should have been a killing blow. His eye twists from black to red and black, the dark flames of Amaterasu exploding to life and swallowing Hidan whole.

Let’s see him get up from that.

“Wha- Indra!” Asura turns on him, unbelievably putting the three actual Akatsuki members (they’re in the cloaks, they’re the enemy right now; he’s gonna rip that cloak right off Itachi’s shoulders) to her back. “You can’t just sit the fight out and then jump in at the last second, you bastard!”

She actually shakes her tiny (world-shattering) fist at him. Cute. He’s having flashbacks, it’s nostalgic. How hadn’t his younger self realised this idiot was the one for him?

Maybe he’s more like Madara that he previously thought; that bastard had been massively invested in the idiot that was Hashirama, hadn’t he? If Hashirama or Madara had been born a girl, Indra would bet everything he owns that the Leaf Village would have been cemented in an alliance with a marriage.

Maybe he’s just the first in a long line to have his life-assigned idiot be born a girl?

“We’ve got more important things to deal with,” Indra mutters, waving a hand towards the three Akatsuki that seem to be torn somewhere between ‘attack’ and ‘what the fuck’. Indra’s experienced that particular mix too many times to count. Now, he just gets on with it, has a lovely little balance between the two and can take all the events that occur during that time and shove them into a mental compartment to be revisited while having his next breakdown. He’s mentioned this before, hasn’t he?

Eh, the point stands.

“But the only one that’s an issue is Stitches?” Asura says it like a question, but it’s really not. Not for Indra, not for her- oh, it’s for the benefit of their audience.

Slowly clambering to his feet, Indra lifts his arms above his head, ribs screeching in protest but they’re just gonna have to deal with it if this goes the way he thinks it’s gonna go. Because Asura’s good, but the genjutsu-breaking demon in her belly is asleep so, if Itachi catches her, then she’s out of commission. Which means he’ll have to deal with his (big or little?) brother.

“I can’t fight for long, Asura. My ribs are broken.”

“Wha- what the fuck do you mean your ribs are broken, bastard!”

“You watched me wrap them this morning, idiot.” How can she be so oblivious?

“I thought it was just another one of your weird-ass fashion choices!” Which, fair enough, he’s had a few of those over the years.

A quick flash of chakra to his left eye has the Rinnegan spinning to life and all three of the Akatsuki, who’ve been watching them with something akin to horrified fascination (for different reasons, he hopes), flinch back in surprise.

“Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Indra is somewhere between Hozier’s Arsonist’s Lullaby ‘_but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake, all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach _’ and Kesha’s Potato Song ‘_ I'm over the drama I'm movin' to a distant island Where I sleep all day if I want to, What makes you happy? Do what you wanna do Ain't nobody stoppin' you, ooh’_’


	5. Chapter 5

“Did’ya really have to take it that far?”

Indra’s not too sure he understands the question. Both Itachi and the blue haired woman aren’t harmed (just like he and Asura wanted, respectively) and they’d been in the middle of an S-ranked fight for a handful of seconds. Indra’s relatively certain he’d used ‘appropriate force’ in this instance. 

The way Asura’s looking at the smear that was once Stitches, he’s got the feeling she disagrees. 

“Susanoo? Really?” 

Now that he’s not reeling from seeing Itachi, his (little? Younger?) brother, Indra can admit that maybe Susanoo had been overdoing it.

Stitches had gone the same way as a bug does under a fist. All the funny looking masks on his back had snapped and cracked. It’d been a messy death, but at least it’s been quick. Now, neither he nor Asura has to deal with the S-rank criminal that neither of them are willing to vouch for (though, honestly, he doesn’t have a clue how Asura recognises the woman. He certainly doesn’t). 

“Konan! Konan! Can I talk about Yahiko’s vision?!” And she’s off.

Indra’s not really worried about it right now; Asura’s stronger than him (probably her one saving grace among his ancestors’ considerations) and he doesn’t know the woman, which means she must of died before he got into the Akatsuki. Weak. 

Asura’ll be able to take her in a fight. But that leaves him with Itachi. 

Now, living Itachi he’d dealt with, he’d died a bloody death pressing two fingers to his forehead.

_‘Forgive me. It ends with this.’_

Then there’d been undead Itachi, helping Konoha by ending a war from the shadows, unacknowledged yet again.

_‘I will always love you.’_

And now, because of time travel, there’s (dare he think it?) baby Itachi. 

God, he’s so young. Maybe it’s because he’s always seemed untouchable to Indra, always a step ahead. Now, with half the power of a god in one hand and eye, Indra can only look at him and see where the adults have failed.

For fuck’s sake, he’s sixteen and has already been a missing nin for three years.

He’s gonna carve Danzo’s innards our with a spoon. And he’s not well-versed with anything other than chopsticks, so it’ll be messy and painful and exactly what the fucker deserves.

Is this what it feels like to be a big brother? It’s weird as fuck but this is Itachi. He’s too old to be the little brother of the relationship now, so there’s no other choice.

Indra will embrace his role wholeheartedly. 

“Hey,” he starts, taking a step forwards and watching his brother watch him. He feels the genjutsu Itachi slips on him when they make eye-contact. He slips his own around it, Rinnegan thrumming in his eye-socket and overriding Itachi’s Mangekyo. Why the hell had it taken the Sage so long to give him this power? Super genjutsu would have been so much more useful five years ago. 

Indra stops before Itachi, lifting his hand. The illusion shatters just as Indra pokes his elder-younger brother in the forehead, watching the other’s eyes widen. He can hear his heart rate speed up; it’s the most telling reaction that Indra’s ever managed to startle out of him. 

“Let’s talk next time we meet. Until then, don’t consider me an obstacle to overcome. I’ll help you however I’m able, because that’s what brothers are for.” He can’t bring himself to say big brother. Not yet. He’ll have that sorted by the next time they meet. “For now, leave everything to me.” 

Itachi doesn’t seem to know what to do. Indra wonders if it’s because he has their mother’s soft face, wonders if it’s the surprise of the Rinnegan illusion actually catching him. Either way, Itachi is here, so young (but not innocent, others ruined that long ago) and so fragile. Even if he doesn’t look, doesn’t act it. 

“Indra! Time to go!” And then there’s Asura, snatching him away as quick as a flash.

He’s not sure where they land, where Asura flash-steps them to with her Kyūbi power form (and oh, is that gonna be reported back to the Akatsuki? Probably not a good thing but what can they do about it?) but it’s far enough away that he can’t sense Itachi. 

And, out of everyone in the land baring present company, it’s Itachi he’s best at sensing.

Itachi he’d got to poke in the forehead, Itachi who’d stared up at him with wide, startled eyes. Oh yeah, that was very satisfying. Ten out of ten, would fuck with again... huh, maybe this is how the Uchiha obsession with mind-fuckery begins? Maybe this is why they had a bit of a reputation... nah. The rest of the world is wrong; his family weren’t that deranged. 

“You okay, Indra?” 

Indra hums, stretching his arms out and fuck his ribs. They still hurt. Asura had regrown Kakashi’s eye, hadn’t she? Can she manage ribs? Then again, he’s not had them forcibly removed. Probably best to wait for them to heal. 

“Indra?” 

A finger pokes his cheek and Indra lets one eye lazily drift towards Asura. She’s squatting beside him (yes, he’d not climbed up out of the slump he’d landed in the dirt in) with a worried look on her cute little face, cheeks puffed out as she considers him. The Fourth War sucked; he’s slept in a bed once since then; they’re not at war now, they should be sleeping in beds as often as they can. 

“Did you really poke Itachi in the head?” 

At that, Indra does smile, snickering slightly under his breath. It’d felt good, really good, tables turned and all that. 

“I’m the older brother now,” is all he gives for an explanation and Asura nods, as if this makes perfect sense and aligns perfectly with her view of the world. 

See, this is exactly why she’s perfect for him; he doesn’t need to explain anything to her. 

“I think time travel brain suits you,” Asura muses, sitting herself down on the ground, the hand that’s been poking his cheek changing course to run through his hair and oh. That’s really, really nice. Fuck, the way her nails are dancing across his scalp is divine. He’s never moving from this position; he’ll die here, thank you for asking.

“You’re like a big, lazy cat,” Asura laughs, smiling so bright; she’s warmer than the sun itself. “Hopefully, when they go back, Zetsu’ll be worried. I can sense him the second he gets close enough and then BAM!” The hand leaves his hair to hammer into an open palm as a closed fist, highlighting what Asura believes to be the key point of their plan. “No more plant bastard.”

“No more plant bastard is a good goal,” Indra agrees, refusing to point out the multitude of holes in her plan. Wide enough for a summons to pass through. It all works out for her in the end anyway, doesn’t it? 

Whatever Asura’s up to, he’s down to join in, no matter how ridiculous a plan it may be. 


	6. Chapter 6

Not three hours of travel time later, they arrive at a little village, so small the population can’t even be pushing into triple digits. The whole way, Asura flutters and fumbles along beside him, worried about his ribs but utterly useless to help. Not a surprise considering she’s lived with the inbuilt Jinchūriki patch-job all her life, but that does little to help him right now. What is pleasant is how she holds his hand the entire walk.

Okay, he has to trick her into it, claiming her chakra’s warm (is it warm? Yes, in the way the summer’s sun is warm at the height of midday, the kind you can only bask in for five minutes before it’s burning rays send you scuttling for the shade) and soothing (soothing to know who it belongs to, the actual chakra is quite ferocious and never stills, much like the girl herself).

Asura eyes him, as if certain that he’s lying but she can’t quite pinpoint why. Still, with a muttered grumble of ‘bastard, why’re you so weird all of a sudden’, she’d slipped her hand in his. So, that’s how they arrive. Hand in hand. Like an actual couple.

Indra’d rather pull his teeth out than ask Asura if that’s what she wants (she might appreciate blunt honesty but he sure as fuck doesn’t unless it’s screwing him over à la massacre style) so he’ll just make things clear with his actions. She’s always been a tactile idiot; it won’t be long until she realises.

Not long into their walk through the village, Indra spots the little inn, one squashed between a restaurant and a butcher’s shop. It’s small, clearly only receiving business from the travelling merchants that tumble through here on the road. But it’ll have a bed and that’s sure as hell good enough for him.

“Come on, Idiot. Rest time.” With two S-ranked criminals dead today, he thinks they more than deserve it.

Indra takes point now, pushing open the door to the little inn, a yawn already on the cusp of his lips. He’s tired but he’s been through a war recently and a shit ton of stuff before that so he’s fucking allowed to be tired. His ribs hurt, most of his body is aching and he just wants to curl up around Asura and bask in her presence for a bit. He’s been denying himself that for far too long, has not appreciated her presence since the early, early days of his genin life. Not that he’d ever let on to the fact he sorta liked her, what with being under the impression Itachi could roll in at any point and steal her from him. By killing her, that is. The thought of Itachi and Asura is very disturbing and Indra slots it away to never be considered again. Bed first, sleep next, maybe kiss Asura somewhere between them.

His priorities are clear.

At no point in there was there anything about sitting through a healing session for his ribs.

Given how Tsunade of the Sannin is staring blankly at them from beside the inn’s counter, Indra rather gets the feeling his to-do list is gonna take a massive swan-dive into that ‘I don’t want to’ territory.

Asura clocks her a second later.

“Granny Tsunade!”

“You’re from the future.”

“Yep!”

“And you’re here to save the world.”

“Uh-huh!”

Indra sits through the whole thing on the bed, Tsunade’s glowing green hands on his ribs (and thank fuck if it’s suddenly easier to breath) and Asura’s fingers still laced with his own. The only good point in all of this; she hasn’t let go.

Tsunade, after listening to the shitshow that was their lives prior to this moment (and when he means listening to their lives, it’s the unabridged, gloriously detailed kind that only Asura can get away with sharing on the ‘first meeting’; it’s how she makes friends) had took one looked at their joined hands and sent him a knowing smirk. Indra had just met her gaze evenly, utterly unable to come up with any kind of response. Maybe before he’d have hissed in irritation, pulled his hand from Asura’s and disappeared for a bit.

Not anymore. Fuck that. His hand is perfectly fine where it is, thank you.

“So, you finish your crusade against this group of S-ranked criminals and, then what?”

“We go clean house,” Indra states at the exact same time Asura proclaims, “we’ll go deal with Orochimaru!”

There’s a moment then, in which Indra stares at Asura and Asura stares back at Indra. He’s the first to concede.

“We go deal with Orochimaru, then we go clean house,” Indra amends, hoping against hope that Asura realises ‘house’ means Konoha and all the nasty (re. Danzō) inhabitants.

The flat of Asura’s other palm presses against his forehead and Indra’s brow scrunches, confuses eyes leaping up to focus on the girl.

“What?”

“Granny, he must be sick! Indra never agrees with my plan!”

Tsunade, the bitch, just laughs at him. Not that he’d been expecting back-up from a Senju of all people, but it’d been a nice idea. For the two seconds in which their eyes met, Indra had thought that perhaps he could have one of Tsunade’s precious people on side for the whole relationship, living out the rest of the lives together thing.

Then he’d remembered that this Tsunade wasn’t exactly close to Asura so it wouldn’t matter too much if she didn’t approve.

Then, bonus, he remembered that this one had not actually suffered for any of his previously ill-thought-out decisions. She might even actually come to not just approve of him, but think him an ideal partner for Asura.

Time travel is mental.

“Nah. Your cutie here has just realised following a woman’s lead is for the best; it happens to all of them, eventually,” she trails off with a sad smile but Indra has no time for whatever sad-sap tale she’s about to dribble off into. He just wants his ribs healed and then Tsunade out of the hotel room.

Hang on, he’s two outta three for the Sannin in an uncomfortably small number of days. What’s the chances that Orochimaru’s gonna show up next?

“Speaking of a woman’s lead,” Asura chirps up, rubbing her hands together and leaning forwards, all cheer smile and sparkly eyes. Yeah, Indra’s fallen for that one before.

By the time they complete their self-appointed mission of preventing the end of the world (leaving Indra free to begin his own mission to put a ring on Asura’s finger), he’s got a good feeling there’ll be a Fifth Hokage.

He wonders if a bet was how Asura tricked her into becoming the next leader of their village the first time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon: **Hand Holding, the Damnation of the Bloodline, and Other Splendid Pastimes** \- by Uchiha Sasuke.
> 
> In which Sasuke's response to learning time-travel is possible is to try going back just that little bit further. And overshooting the runway. By a lot. The ancestors may be giving him hell, but at least he's got Naruto with him.  
_In which it is an AU of this fic from chapter one because I couldn't shake how the Uchihas of Madara's time would react to these two_


	7. Chapter 7

“You know, Sensei, I think I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna have a blonde as the next protagonist.”

One sentence has never struck such nausea into Sarutobi Hiruzen’s heart quite as quick as that.

Long ago, back when Jiraiya was still filling out his gangly teenaged body, back when he’d been brimming with ideas (fantastic, fantastic ideas) for new literature, the teenager had proclaimed something along those exact words. ‘The protagonist will be blonde’.

The next day, Hiruzen had been visiting the scamp in hospital after Tsunade had beaten him half to death for peaking on her in the hot springs. When asked, his ‘dead-last’ pupil had proclaimed it done in the name of research, though even he was struggling to weigh up if seeing Tsunade topless had been worth the beating.

Nonetheless, when Jiraiya had taken up his spy network, he’d implemented those words as a code. A code that, when said, basically meant ‘I am about to shovel the biggest pile of bullshit you ever did see, and I’ll clean it all off once the flies are gone’.

Speaking of flies on the wall, Danzō, Homura and Koharu all walk into his office, various expression on their face signalling they overheard Jiraiya’s words. Danzō, of course, recognises the sentence had been a code, though he won’t have the slightest clue as to the true meaning.

“Jiraiya. It is nice to see you have returned in good health,” Koharu greets him with a smile, taking a seat as his giant of a student leans against the window ledge.

“Huh, oh, yeah. Healthy as ever. I’ve even lost some weight, about a hundred kilograms, actually. Damn brats.”

“Brats?” Danzō repeats, his voice cool as he watches Jiraiya with his single, visible eye.

“Oh man.” It is not said with a sad tone, nor is it said with the guilty conscience of someone who has done wrong. No, Jiraiya says those two words with undisguised glee, rubbing his hands together and, if Hiruzen didn’t know better, he’d be assuming a new mixed-gender onsen was opening in Konoha. (It isn’t, something like that would have to get his approval and no forms have passed his desk since Jiraiya had tried sneaking one in thirty or so years ago).

“I am so glad to be rid of them because it means I get to let loose on Minato’s last secret.” Minato’s last what?

Hiruzen listens, alongside his teammates from the war, with growing disbelief. Jiraiya spins a perfect tale of hidden secrets, desperate dads determined to keep their children safe, there’s even a legendary Dōjutsu thrown into the mix. Were it not for the code at the start of their conversation, Hiruzen would have been taking everything at face value, just as the others are doing. Because it seems too outlandish, too wild a story to even try to pass as a lie (even though that’s what it must be; this is the shit Jiraiya is shovelling).

Still, when he’s handed the photos of the two Jiraiya has ‘spent a decade teaching and protecting’, he feels a stone settle in his stomach. Because that’s a female Minato on the first sheet. Unquestionably Minato’s child, undoubtedly Kushina’s, given the birth marks and mischievous expression. She’s beautiful, a confident young thing that has no trouble smiling at the camera.

Which is more than he can say about the other one.

Clearly a Uchiha, so painfully similar in facial structure to Uchiha Mikoto that he can be none other than her son. He recalls the still-born baby that’d come before- before Itachi. Though, perhaps not stillborn. A cleverly disguised ruse.

“He has an advanced Sharingan,” Danzō states, face absolutely blank and Hiruzen sends a furious glance his way. He has not forgotten how the other had forced his hand with the massacre, has not forgotten Itachi’s report of Shisui’s death. Were he in a position to do anything about it-

“Not even a Sharingan, something better. And he can use it- man, can he use it!” Jiraiya laughs, slapping an open palm against his thigh, grinning all the while. “I didn’t even know I was in a genjutsu until I woke up, flat broke and drunk as a skunk in River Country. It took me hours to track them both down again after that.”

Even as Jiraiya continues to regal them of tales of the two, Hiruzen’s mind whirls.

Itachi will not know about this elder brother; if Mikoto went to such lengths to hide him for this ‘better-than-the-Sharingan’ Dōjutsu, then the other will be rightly suspicious. Even to the point of potentially paying a visit. And this Indra who can catch Jiraiya in a genjutsu won’t know that his younger brother is innocent, may just attack right off.

And that’s not even considering how the two youngest players in all this will feel. Though he doesn’t doubt Naruto will be thrilled to have an elder sister, he worries the young girl will question why Asura wasn’t there for her before. Understanding restraint, understanding why someone might have to stay away for another’s safety has never been one of her strong suits. Even more so when she doesn’t know why, exactly, she’s so precious.

This continues for another ten minutes, Jiraiya clarifying that the duo are on the hunt of S-Rank criminals involved in the release of the Kyūbi eleven years ago and then deftly dancing around giving out any more information, before the others take the hint to leave. Probably to come up with some plans for when Uchiha Indra returns, and Uzumaki Asura. After all, one will wield political power that they’d thought locked up until Sasuke came of age, the other… well, the other is the elder sister to a Jinchūriki and holds half the beast as well.

“That was quite the shock, Jiraiya,” Hiruzen mutters, reaching into his top draw to pull free his liquor stash. The hard stuff. It’s necessary when kunai tags like this get exploded on him.

“Yeah, quite the shock,” Jiraiya agrees, slapping down a seal on each surface of the room, even the ceiling. Once that’s complete, his student turns back to him, eyes serious and mouth in a firm line. “Now, forget ninety percent of what I’ve just told you. What’ve you heard of time-travel, Sensei?”


	8. Chapter 8

“Am I the only one thinking that was stupidly easy?” No, she’s not.

Indra rather thinks it was far too easy as well. It doesn’t stop him from prodding the miniature satellite with his foot, frown on his face. He’s not a sensor like Asura, cannot tell if the plant bastard is sealed inside or not. But the fact that she’s standing and smiling as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, as if all is right and just in the world, then Indra supposes it is.

They’re in the past, they’ve reduced two Akatsuki members to smears (of ash or squishy innards, it doesn’t matter) and now they’ve got the plant bastard trapped. It’s taken three weeks of determined hunting, two close-calls where Asura had almost had him and then he’d melted into the ground.

That’s round about the time Indra’d gotten fed up with it all. This time, he’d used the Rinnegan to lift the ground up and away, leaving it floating while Asura captured her prize. All Indra’d had to do beyond that was help with the sealing thing that Sage had bestowed on them. That and carefully but the ground back. It can’t go exactly where he got it given the whole ‘torn out the earth, perfect crater below his floating ball of rock and all’, but he’d tried. That’s the important part.

Well, it’s the part that matters to Asura anyway.

“Find the Snake bastard next!” Asura declares, slamming her fist into her palm, grinning all the while.

Indra closes the small distance between them, takes her face between his palm and (after checking that she’s totally okay with this via brief eye contact) presses his lips to hers. She kisses back as fiercely as she does anything else. Gentle and subtle are words that Asura may have once had to study the meaning of, but she’d discarded them as soon as she was able. He couldn’t care less, more than happy to accept any and all affections she’s willing to give him.

Hands sliding down her arms, Indra slips them inwards, fingers at Asura’s hips and thumbs brushing the sharp jolt of her hipbones beneath the thick fabric of her pants. Still orange but the colour’s growing on him. She’s gone back to orange and navy with her new clothes (couldn’t exactly keep running around in their Fourth War stuff, what will all the bloodstains and liquified Zetsu splatters on them) and he appreciates that. Navy, after all, is a Uchiha colour.

Asura pulls her head back but not before nibbling at his lips like the little wild-thing that she is, smiling and grinning like she’s trying to give him a heart attack. Her hands are on his shoulders, still half-up on her tip-toes so they’re the same height. As if she needs to make herself any bigger, as if she’s not the thing his entire world revolves around. His sunshine, his central point, his gravitational pull.

God, how has he gotten so lucky?

“Dealt with a rabbit, so it’s onto snakes next, is it?” Indra asks, hands still at her hips and he doesn’t want to move any time soon, not if he can help it. Surely, they can take a break, go find somewhere to bunker down for a few days (weeks, months) and pretend they’re the only to beings that exist?

“Yep, sounds about right, ‘ttebayo!” Asura removes herself from his grip, grabbing one of his hands before they can retreat to his side as she marches for the edge of the ball. All the while, Indra’s Sharingan whirls into the Rinnegan. He’s not really tested the whole ‘other dimensions’ aspect of the Rinnegan beyond confirming he can do it. The realm that Zetsu’s destined for he’d picked well in advance. That awful acid one that Kaguya had tried throwing them into. He’s toxic enough that he’ll probably feel right at home there.

Dumping the big, sealed rock into the other dimension, Indra allows his eyes to fade to black, trusting Asura to lead him where they need to go.

“Wha- hey! You ninja bastards have destroyed me farmland!”

Well shit.

Though it makes little sense to him why they have to help (little does this upstart, redneck farmer know but they just saved every occupant of the world, including his ungrateful ass), Indra sticks around as Asura does her best to return their battlefield to something resembling a field.

The farmer spends the entire time yelling at him, predominately because he’s not lifting a finger to help. But if Indra helps, the farmer will yell at Asura and then Indra will either a. want to gut him, or b. actually gut him. Option a. leaves him unsatisfied, but option b. would mean getting the Asura ‘I’m disappointed in you’ pout. And probably a lecture. Ergo, it’s easier for him to get shouted at as Asura fixes things. Besides, Indra’s not a fixer, he destroys stuff and he does it well. Why bother changing that?

He does listen long enough for the farmer to mention how field hands are disappearing a few towns over. They’re near Grass Country, aren’t they? Which probably means it’s Orochimaru.

When it comes to the snake Sanin, Indra doesn’t exactly have mixed feelings. True, the man trained him. But it was with every intention of taking over his body at a later date. It’d been a chaotic relationship that Itachi (the alive one) had put to rest just before his own death. True, Indra had brought the bastard back during the Fourth War, but that had been the end of their association as far as he was aware.

Now though, he knows the snake Sanin will make a move for Itachi’s Sharingan if he senses a mote of weakness. And he can’t let a threat to his bother stand… and there’s his younger self too. The actual Sasuke of this time. He should probably put a bit of effort into looking out for him too; it’ll be a bit odd if he worried for the missing nin brother and not the ‘innocent’ one.

“All done!” Asura bounces over, throwing her arm across his shoulders and Indra wraps and arm around her waist in return. “So, Orochimaru next?”

“Orochimaru next.”


	9. Chapter 9

Indra descends from the sky like wrath incarnate, Chidori sparking in one hand, sword in the other. Orochimaru back-tracks as swift as he can but it’s not quick enough avoid losing an arm and a leg. Off to a side, he can see Asura mopping up the mooks, taking her sweet time and seemingly more than happy to leave Orochimaru to him. Given their past, it’s understandable why she would do so; Indra knows his moves, knows his mindset. He’s the best for dealing with him.

It’s why he’s not responded to the other whenever he’s asked where he came from, needling him from every angle. Was he upset over the loss of the Uchiha clan he’d never gotten to know? Did he want to hunt Itachi down? Did he want to help him? Was he losing his sight from the advanced Sharingan? Did he hate Konoha?

He doesn’t respond to any of them, continuing to fight. Admittedly, it’s more challenging when Orochimaru has access to his chakra, when the Shinigami hasn’t stolen his arm (metaphorically) from him. Nothing Indra cannot deal with (he’s fought a god; Orochimaru barely registers as a threat at this point) but still, irritating.

His opponent steps out of the shed skin of his former self, a wild look seeping into his amber eyes as Indra surges forwards again. Their blades clash, flashes of sparks blurring back and forth, slices of silver in the air.

Then Asura goes rocketing past him through no choice of her own and suddenly he has bigger problems.

Orange mask- Tobi.

“Asura!” His heart fucking leaps into his chest, abandoning his fight with Orochimaru in an instant, fuck everything else. The Rinnegan he’d been trying to keep hidden from the snake bastard springs to life, forcibly pulling Tobi back and away from Asura, right up until he twists into that fucking dimension of his. Fuck, where’s Kakashi when you need him? And double fuck, this is his old teammate, isn’t it? Does that mean they have to keep him alive? Wasn’t there something about a seal on his chest? Indra’s not a hundred percent sure but Madara’s just that kind of bastard, isn’t he? So, the answer is probably, especially if it’s ringing a bell in his head.

A lot of the fighting in the last few hours of the war had blurred for him, leaving only faint traces of thoughts about shit that happened and the distinct impression that Asura looks hot when she’s fighting god.

“And another one,” Tobi growls, looking over his head, mask firmly in place and single Sharingan flashing. Indra returns in kind, lacing three different genjutsus over the fucker as Asura surges forwards, Rasengan in hand. She goes right through him, twisting with Kyūbi enchanted speed to have a second go once her body is through the image of their opponent.

“Indra! Need to go to the other place!” Fuck, she’s right. He can’t send her to the other dimension; if he dies, she’s stuck there. Fuck.

The Rinnegan pulsates in his left socket and Indra swirls himself away, ignoring the startled gasp from Orochimaru. They were supposed to be dealing with the snake here, not Tobi. They weren’t prepared for Tobi. Oh, they’d win, that goes without question. But Indra’s far from happy that he’s literally in a different dimension than Asura.

After this, he’s looking for a dimension with a nice little island for them to lose track of the months on.

There’s not too much for him to do from then on. Well, that’d be a lie; Tobi keeps popping in and out, Indra keeps beating the shit out of him whenever he does. Each time he appears, he’s a little more worse for wear, proving Asura’s on the other side, still tearing chunks out of her opposition. The mask goes somewhere between the fourth and fifth jump, the wild look in his eyes appears by the eleventh. After the nineteenth, there are no more jumps.

Indra stays within the whacked-out dimension for a half-minute, just to ensure the other isn’t going to randomly appear, isn’t tricking him into thinking he’s dealt with.

Only then does he swirl himself back to the previous location; the Rinnegan fucking throbs and his chakra levels are the lowest they’ve been since he woke up in the past.

Still, Tobi caught in a Kyūbi powered fist is pretty satisfying to see. That Asura’s missing the entire left sleeve of her shirt and the skin is freshly pink, like nearly healed skin that’s been exposed to a little too much heat, is less pleasing. Indra makes sure he stands on a set of Tobi’s toes as he walks over to join her.

“Let me guess, therapy with a fist?” Indra angles, gaze never straying from Tobi. The other man is staring at Asura like she’s ripped everything apart (she has) and glued it back together until it doesn’t resemble the original product (which, if they’re talking about Tobi’s future, she probably has).

“And some truths!” she chirps, scratching at the newly healed skin, sucking her bottom lip before it stretches wide with a smile. “Kurama’s even agreed to rebuild his heart once I’ve ripped the seal off.”

Tobi’s choked ‘what’ means nothing to Indra (other than the little pleasure he gets over the bastard freezing in terror at the declaration). More importantly-

“I wasn’t aware the Kyūbi was awake,” he says slowly, watching Asura for anything on the subject. After all, Indra’s good, but the Kyūbi is one thing that he can’t skate around. Unfortunately, the giant fox’s opinion matters, given that he literally resides within Asura. They’re, unbelievably, friends. He’s under no delusions; the fox is never gonna like him. Indra just has to make sure it doesn’t hate him.

Plus, having an immortal chakra beast watch over the future generations of Uzumaki-Uchiha children is ideal, in his head.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, he woke up last week. I told Obito everything; he’s gonna come back to Konoha with us!” Asura fist pumps, blatantly ignoring the other’s near catatonic state. “I’m sure Jiji will understand with the whole seal on the heart thing and we can just tell everyone else he was captured and tortured by enemy-nin, right? I mean, it’s sorta true.”

What was it Tsunade had said? Oh, yeah, ‘following a woman’s lead is for the best’. That logic is fine with Indra, after all, as long as Itachi and Asura’s safe, what does he care? He’s more than happy to let her call the shorts in all honesty. Something he should have been doing since they were genin. Life would have been so much more enjoyable if he’d done that from the start.

“But before that, we’re gonna have to go track that Snake-face again!”


	10. Chapter 10

Finding Orochimaru again is so much easier once Tobi-Obito-Swirlface isn’t catatonic anymore.

Whistling, Indra kneels down to inspect the second sealing rock that he and Asura have created, poking the orb. He ignores Swirlface (until he picks a fucking name, that’s the one Indra’s gonna use, maybe even after he’s picked one too) scuttling back from the both of them, too busy focusing on Asura’s delightful little happy dance. She’s an awful dancer; no control in her hips and her arms are just, flailing. Like a fish on land. Or a fox in the air.

Pushing down the snicker, Indra leans against Orochimaru’s new prison (it’s for the best, bastard snake can’t go after Itachi in there; he’s gaining a new found appreciation for eternally trapping their enemies, maybe that’s what he should do to Danzō, but with added genjutsu). If he stands here like a lovestruck fool and watches her... well, Swirlface hasn’t got any room to judge, given how he responded to his love life. If Indra wants to stand here admiring Asura for all of time, he’d like to see the bastard that tries to stop him succeed.

“We have so got this world saving thing in the bag, ‘ttebayo!” Pumping the air with her fist, Asura twists on her heels to look at him, still grinning from ear to ear as she leans forwards, as if she’s about to share a person secret of grave importance. “We make the best team, ya know?” Daring him to disagree.

Indra closes the distance between them with three quick steps, catching her hands in his. He swings them side to side, motion gentle, entranced by those blue blue blue eyes. He imagines them in a pale face, framed by spiky black hair, pictures them swirling red with black tomes. A future running around after brats that are half Asura sounds ideal.

“The best team,” Indra agrees softly, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against hers. The metal plate of the Leaf band greets his heated skin (too many fire jutsus in the past five minutes) but Indra doesn’t care. The way her cheeks are flushing is much more appealing to focus on.

“You’re going soft, Bastard,” Asura hisses, squeezing his hands with force but not enough to really cause damage.

“Only for you.”

“Man, you know our ancestors would be spitting on you if they could, right, Indra?” Swirly-faced fucker. Indra will kick him. In a moment. Once he’s done holding Asura’s hands.

He’ll never be done holding Asura’s hands.

Quick break, kick ass, then back to hand holding.

“So, where now?”

They’re sitting at a nearby inn; people had stared when the three of them walked in which, yeah, understandable. Indra’s probably the most normal looking out of the three of them; Asura’ bright and blonde and walking sunshine, Swirl-face is exactly that, swirly in the face and looks more than worn for wear. Which leaves Indra as the normal one. Probably classified as ‘the pretty one’ to these people because they don’t have superior eyes and cannot see that Asura’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I, I don’t know. We could hunt the rest of the Akatsuki that aren’t any good, but that’s a lot easier now-”

“Given that I can just drop the two of you off to wreak havoc when needed,” Swirl-face finishes, tone dipping into that ‘unbelievable, how is this reality’ tone near the end. Indra doesn’t blame him. Not every day you end up recruited by two people blessed with god-like powers (Indra’d say thank you to the Sage, but it’s his fuck up with the original Indra that started this whole mess, so he will offer no gratitudes on that front) to work as their literal taxi to take them to their ass beating locations.

Heh. He hopes Swirl-face has realised this is going to be his life for the foreseeable future.

“Danzō next,” Indra grumbles, arms folding across his chest, leaning against the wall to his back as his eyes slip closed. His tea steams on the table, too hot yet to drink (yes, he blows fire from his mouth; doesn’t mean he wants to scold his tongue if he can avoid it).

“Right! We can go see the little versions of us too!” Asura hammers her open palm against the table, the slap ringing out as the cups rattle. Nothing spills and their food arrives a moment later as Asura continues, “I think I’ll be able to see the whole ‘good looking Sasuke’ thing now.”

At that, he does slip an eye open, assessing the blonde. “What’s that supposed to me?”

“All those girls saying you were pretty and good looking when we were in the academy; I never saw it!”

“That’s because you were too busy focusing on how strong I was,” Indra teases, picking up his chopsticks and breaking them apart. The tomato is the first thing he goes for; old habits die hard.

“Damn right I was! You were my goal to surpass! My rival to beat… All I wanted was you to acknowledge me.”

Indra knocks a foot against hers under the table, drawing Asura’s gaze up to his.

“I could never ignore you.”

“Aaaand we need to get back to Konoha quickly,” Swirl-face interrupts, raking a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. “I have never felt more like a third wheel than I do right now.”

“Then piss off for a bit and come back later,” Indra snaps, waving one hand in the other’s direction, as if he can physically bat him away. That, or disperse him like a cloud of smoke.

There’s a lot to be said for Swirl-face’s Mangekyō Sharingan, given he disappears a moment later, taking his breakfast with him.

Indra eyes the empty seat for a moment and then throws the asshole right out of his mind, turning his whole focus back on Asura. Her brows are scrunched as she eyes the empty seat, but she turns her attentions back on him soon enough.

“What are we doing, Indra?”

“I’m trying to make it obvious I don’t want anyone else but you. A rival, friend, wife, as long as you don’t leave me.” He won’t be able to handle her leaving, he’ll end up protecting her from the shadows for the rest of his days.

“A-a wife?!” Asura chokes, lips parted in that delightful little ‘o’ of surprise. Indra watches her splutter, limbs flailing again before she points one slender finger his way, nail brushing the very edge of his nose. “Damn it, Bastard! You’re supposed to date someone before you marry them!”

“And when have we ever done what we’re supposed to?” It slips out without meaning but Indra takes it in his stride, continuing before Asura can start spluttering again, “let’s date first then.”

“Fine! We’re dating!”

At that point, the rest of the patrons at the inn begin an enthusiastic, if stunned applause. Asura turns very red indeed and Indra chooses to muffle his laughter instead of glaring at them all.

He’s dating Asura. She hadn’t shot the idea of marriage down.

Today is a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by a mix of BTS’s new album and Strong Girl Bong-soon, both of which I’ve been devouring this weekend. 
> 
> (Also, half term is over, so slower updates now)


	11. Chapter 11

The gate-guards stare. Indra can’t actually blame them because, for all that they’re in generic shinobi gear they’d managed to wrangle out of the Uchiha Stronghold on the way back (and Asura had aggressively stitched an Uzumaki’s sigil over the Uchiha fan and he’s ridiculously pleased she did that instead of ripping it off)... there’s nothing generic about them. Between Indra’s clearly Uchiha face, Asura’s bright blonde hair and whisker marks, and Swirl-face’s... everything, he imagines they’re a sight to be seen. That Asura is skipping towards the gate, hands clasped behind her back and that beaming smile on her face... well, she doesn’t exactly scream enemy-nin, but she’s nowhere near subtle either. 

“Good morning! We’re here to see the Hokage, ‘ttebayo! Pervy Sage shoulda already told him we’re coming!” 

Yeah, he’s got no desire to straighten that out.

Guard One frantically flicks through papers. Probably the ‘allocated or expected strangers list’. Guard Two had been facing into the village as Asura arrived and is now whipping his head back and forth between the mountain and the girl. Right, her father’s carved into the stone, looking out over them all. Why Asura wants her bangs like her father’s, he’ll never know. They do suit her face, frame her eyes so perfectly. The growing hair, well, he’s not sure about that. Oh, Asura’ll make it look beautiful, but he just doesn’t know where the idea has come from. When they were genin brats, her hair was sheared shorter than his. A reaction to that stupid rumour he liked long hair. 

He doesn’t. Hair is hair.

... He does have a thing for sunny blondes though. 

“I- state you’re name,” Gate Guard One finally fumbles out, gawking again as Swirl-face slaps down what has to be some form of war time ID thing. Huh. 

“Uchiha Obito, returned from Prisoner of War status.”

“Rescued by us! Hi, we’re Uzumaki Asura and Uchiha Indra!” Asura’s right up in their faces now, all beaming smile and sunshine attitude 

Indra slips his hand into hers, saying nothing. 

That’s about the time Gate Guard Two tears his eyes away from Asura to look at Swirl-face instead. It’s a long, drawn out thing, followed by the disbelieving shake of a head. 

“Hatake’s gonna lose his shit,” he whispers and Indra cannot tuck away the smile that wants to stretch across his lips at that. 

A moment later, a small coalition of ANBU appear, undoubtedly to escort them to the Hokage’s Tower, swiftly and safely. They take the rooftops, the flared chakra of their ‘guards’ signalling any other ninja to keep well away. Not that it’d stop either of them, or Swirl-face for that matter, from attacking the citizens if they wanted to. But they won’t. Asura’s too good to think of it, Indra too determined to be on her good side, and Swirl-face too under thumb to be anything other than good. For now.

All bets are off if he sees Danzō.

He does spot a younger Ino walking through the streets, utterly oblivious to the contingency of ANBU passing overhead. She’s accompanied by her father, who does spot them and stares at him, at Asura. Indra ignores him. Asura gives a jaunty wave. 

It’s... strange, being back in the Leaf Village. The place he’d sworn to destroy. The place he’d nearly died trying to protect. This place that treated both himself and Asura so badly, yet remains a central point of her love. It doesn’t deserve it but then, neither does Indra. Perhaps that’s something they have in common. Loved by an idiotic blonde who doesn’t know any better. It’s foolish, comparing himself to a village like this. And yet, so much of what Asura is, what she strives for, is focused upon this sprawling stretch of buildings and the people who occupy them. 

“Indra!”

He doesn’t have much time to react; Asura is suddenly throwing herself onto his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders and cheek nuzzling against the side of his skull. Her legs encircle his waist and Indra catches the bald of her thighs, unnecessarily holding her steady. 

“Yeah?”

“Nothing! I just wanted a piggyback!” Her breath is hot against his ear, the excited rhythm of her heart thundering through the skin of his back to jolt his own into motion. He runs one of his fingers back and forth against the thick shinobi-wear that covers her legs, feeling the muscle flex beneath his touch. 

She can read him well enough; Asura doesn’t even need to ask him for something. Whatever she wants, he’ll do his best to ensure she gets it. 

“You two are sickening,” Swirl-face grumbles, slipping in through the window before Indra can think of a snappy comeback that won’t have the reformed villain (attempting to) shank him. 

They follow a moment later, entering an office Indra hasn’t seen in near five years. The photos of the previous Hokages remain (how no one ever connected Asura to the Fourth, he’ll never know) though the desk is different to what he recalls. Then again, Tsunade was well known for her stellar temper. She probably smashed this one in a fit of rage after learning about the clusterfuck that is the Leaf Village and all it’s hidden darkness. Speaking of, he’ll be shooting for Danzō the second they’re on of this room and officially ‘Leaf Ninjas’.

The Third Hokage sits behind his desk, staring at the two (three) of them. Indra wonders what he sees. If it’s the jawline of his mother, the charcoal of his father’s eyes. If he sees the promise and brilliance within Asura.

Only once one of the ANBU guards has whispered in his ear do his eyes find Swirl-face, clear surprise in them. Then, he turns to Asura, rightly deducing her their leader.

“You best start from the beginning.”

They do start from the beginning. From the beginning of Jiraiya’s pre-conducted, delivered-by-the-toads story, that is. Asura’s particularly good at feeding her lies, taking incidents that actually happened when they were genin and twisting them to fit her narrative, smiling all the while.

It’s as she’s in the middle of recalling their ‘arms-trapped-in-the-thing-accidental-waterfall-kiss that the door is thrown open with a bang, a desperately hopefully Kakashi on the other side. Ah, the rumours of Swirl-face’s return must have reached him. The other Uchiha looks one bad word from fleeing into his fucked-up dimension; the only thing keeping him in place is Asura’s hand on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the Third full out gawks at the intruder.

“Kakashi? You’re- you’re an hour early.”


	12. Chapter 12

For Uchiha Sasuke, it’s just another day when everything goes to shit and his view of the world is shattered for the second time in his short little life.

They’re on a camping expedition with the academy, a waste of fucking time. He could be training, could be studying, could be doing anything other than being forced into pitching a tent with three other boys in preparation for their career as ninja.

Quite frankly, if you can’t work out how to pitch a tent from the instruction manual on your first attempt, then you have no business being a ninja.

As they’re (the others, Sasuke refuses to have a part in any of this) hammering in the second peg, everything goes up in flames. Well, everything on the north side of the clearing, that is.

His classmates scream, scrambling back and away as an older ninja clears the blaze, back to them as he waits for his opponent. Iruka is shouting for them to all stay together, to get back and away from what appears to be an enemy attack, but Sasuke is hypnotised by the figure walking out of the flames.

Taller than what he recalls, the face is wrongwrong_wrong_ and the skin too pale. But the Sharingan eyes leave no doubt this is a Uchiha. A Uchiha that isn’t Itachi who walks through flames that do not touch him, who is solely focused upon who Sasuke belatedly recognises as one of the Hokage’s fellow elders.

What the actual fuck?

“You return to the village after more than a decade away and your first instinct is to attack an elder of the village.” The other (Sasuke doesn’t know his name and, quite frankly, doesn’t care) states, though the grip on his kunai is tight. Sasuke can understand why; his grip on a kunai would be tight too at the sight before them.

“Do you really expect the people of this village to welcome you with open arms as you set their land on fire, Uchiha Indra?”

Indra. Sasuke, Sasuke doesn’t recall an Indra. But the elder called him a Uchiha, he has a Sharingan; he was away for a decade. A decade. He wasn’t here when the massacre happened and he’s a Uchiha. Sasuke- Sasuke isn’t the last of his clan. And then, then the Uchiha finally speaks, sword pointed towards the elder and Sharingan twisting into something… more.

“You stole Uchiha Shisui’s eye and used his Mangekyō Sharingan to force Itachi into killing the entire Uchiha clan in order to implant more stolen Sharingan into your arm!”

From there, it’s lightning and fire and wind and he thinks there’s an elephant at some point. But Sasuke’s not sure. All he can think, the thing that is dominating his mind, is the words.

Shisui’s Sharingan, stolen. It- Itachi’s hand forced. His family killed for their eyes.

“…Damn it, Indra, you over dramatic bastard.” The voice is raspy, feminine and right beside him. Sasuke finally gains enough coherency, enough control of himself, to turn to the source. A woman kneels beside him, many, many exact clones of her gathered around his classmates. Oh. That’s how they moved away from the fight. This woman must have snatched each of them up and transported them some distance away.

The trees are gone; this whole place is just a battlefield now and things keep- keep resetting. He’s not sure what’s going on but there’s another Uchiha here claiming his big br- claiming Itachi’s innocent. That he was forced to do it.

Sasuke recalls whispered conversations, recalls Shisui explaining to his father about his Sharingan and a genjutsu that can force the user to do anything at all.

He remembers piggybacks through the streets, soft words and fingers meeting his forehead.

Can it- is it possible that- does he dare hope?

“Shit!” The fire flares towards them and the woman (one of the clones?) snatches him up, others doing the same with the rest of his classmates. She even has Iruka over one shoulder as they dart out the way. But one of the jutsus is coming in too fast and he can’t die here, he doesn’t have his answers yet, he-

Something golden and bright, warm and wonderful, blocks the attack.

It’s the woman, has to be the original with the amount of chakra pouring off her. She’s cloaked in it, lighting up and there are nine tail-like appendages swinging back and forth behind her, one with a whirling blue ball at the tip that’s getting bigger and bigger. The sphere slams into the second bout of wind-flames, disrupting the attack and forcing them to disperse harmlessly before they can even touch her.

He doesn’t even feel the heat of the attack.

“Don’t worry! As long as I’m here, I won’t let Indra’s smackdown bubble over to hit you, ‘ttebayo!” ‘ttebayo?’ Why is that so familiar, why does that ring a bell.

Iruka’s face is pale, his arms trembling but he’s been like that since the woman in gold appeared, before she’d even spoken. Something about her worries his teacher, though Sasuke doesn’t know why.

He can’t ever remember feeling safer; this woman’s chakra has brought the first ounce of comfort to him since… since that night. A night that he may have been planning the murder of the wrong culprit for.

A hand comes down in his hair, ruffling it, and Sasuke snaps to attention, staring at the clone of the woman. She doesn’t have the glow of chakra, coloured instead by her blonde hair, tanned skin and semi-familiar blue eyes. What?

“Don’t worry, Mini-Indra! He might be a bastard, but Indra’ll do anything for family! I know that, I’m the one that’s had to put up with that for years and pull his ass out of the fire!” She slams her fist into her palm with force; enough of it to dispel herself.

The golden one snaps to attention, swinging around to stare at him, the pupils of her eyes slit thin. Then, she laughs, effortlessly blocking the sudden onslaught she protects them from.

“Man, I remember when Indra was as small as you! You’re way cuter than he was though!” She’s smiling, looking so effortlessly powerful and her chakra feels like he could drown in it and be content.

He doesn’t realise it right away, but this is the moment that Uchiha Sasuke develops his first serious crush.


	13. Chapter 13

Indra weighs the severed arm in his grasp, eyeing the ten (ten, the fucking bastard, not that he hadn’t already known but still) stolen Sharingan that are now closed to the world forever. He would love to rip this monster’s innards out with his own hands but Danzō’s already dead. His Chidori had seen to that. Twirling his sword in one swift, sharp motion, Indra sheaths the blade back at his waist before turning to the audience that remains. The sheer amount of Asura’s that reside there is a welcomed enough sight, but it’s the glowing one that catches his attention, the original. It’s always her. She just bleeds acceptance and warmth and love; the potent power that’s haemorrhaging from her every pour is just as captivation but that’s his Uchiha side talking. The adoration for the girl herself? That’s all Indra, no genetics involved.

Even if the ancestors are probably screaming at him right now. Barring the owner of the eyes that he’s just avenged, that is. Hell, he’s reasonably certain that Shisui would be cheering him on in his quest to win Asura over.

ANBU arrive, the Hokage arrives, and one of Asura’s clones breaks off to go and talk to them. Another approaches for the arm that he’s still holding onto. He hands it over without a word, allowing the Sharingan to fade from his eyes as he walks over to Asura. All her clones are popping now, though she’s still coated in the Fox’s chakra. It flares a brighter gold before fading to the familiar acidic, malicious red that he’d faced near half a decade ago. Then, those flaming red tails are gone too, leaving only the girl that’s the centre of his world.

Heedless of the blood on his shirt and sprayed up his arms, Indra stops before her, reaching for her hips. And, in typical Asura fashion, she takes complete control of the situation by throwing herself into his arms. She doesn’t fit perfectly, he has to adjust his hold by the sudden attack of jinchūriki, but that’s fine. He’ll always do his best to make her comfortable. Her arms are a little tight around his neck but that’s also fine. He never wants her to hesitate to hold him.

She’s the only one that’s allowed to hold him and he needs to make sure she knows that.

“You’re a bastard you know; you just couldn’t wait to start a fight, could-ya?!” Asura pulls back a bit to bellow her opinion and Indra lets his eyes slip closed, forehead resting on hers, thumbs stroking into the thick material of her shirt, massaging her lower back. She’s in Uchiha clothes, he recalls, only the clan sigil is covered with her own.

“You’re bastard,” he agrees quietly, nose bumping against hers, one of Asura’s hands finding the back of his neck to play with the short strands of hair there. He wants to sprint off into the distance, find a cosy little hole of a room somewhere and just nestle down with her to bask in her everything. He could waste days just lying beside her, luxuriating in the sensations of her chakra and touch.

Of course, the Hokage interrupts them.

Indra very rarely gets everything he wants.

But that’s fine. As long as he’s got her, that’s all that matters.

“Should I expect any more traitors to be unmasked before the day is out?”

And well, that’s just an open invitation, isn’t it?

They end up walking to ANBU headquarters with two of the Hokage’s guard carrying Danzō’s body in a scroll, and Asura in full out golden Kyūbi mode, their former white-haired academy sensei held tight between two tails. He’d never really thought about why the other had gone missing just as they graduated, but he guess he has his answer now.

Indra’s also not blind; he knows his younger self had tried to come forwards, probably to confront him about the whole ‘other Uchiha running around and still breathing’, nevermind all the accusations he’d thrown out at Danzō. But it wraps everything up nice and neat, doesn’t it? Danzō blamed for the massacre, Itachi now free to come home to his deserved hero’s welcome.

Now that they’ve dropped the would-be-traitor (or already a traitor? Indra isn’t clear on the specifics) off with the ANBU team, and the Third has promised to catch their younger selves up with the ‘truth’, they’re both free to make tracks to the Uchiha compound. Indra had every intention of picking out a house (not the old house, he can’t stay there, can’t build a happy home in one with such heavy memories), cleaning out the bedroom, and then sleeping for a week. If he’s lucky, he can entice Asura into sleeping alongside him.

“How’d ya think little us are gonna react?” Asura asks, hands behind her head and face tilted up to welcome the sun’s soft rays across her cheeks. “I think little me is gonna flip; she’ll probably try barging into whatever room we’re in when she finds out!” Yeah, Indra can see that happening; it falls right in line with what he’d expect from Asura at this moment in time.

He tells her as such and Asura laughs again, closing her eyes once one of her hands finds his. Indra links their fingers together with the utmost care, thumb brushing back and forth over the sharp jolt of her first knuckle.

“Little you look at me real funny though; I never say that expression on your face when you were that age, ‘ttebayo!”

“I never saw anyone as impressive as you at that age.”

“Ah! Bastard, don’t say weird things like that!”

“It’s not weird. You’re the strongest person I know,” he confesses, feeling only that much more justified in his words as he walks down the entrance to the Uchiha compound and doesn’t feel the ghostly stares of his long dead family. Only Asura’ warm palm against his own, the soft whisper of each of her breaths. “I think you’re supposed to tell the love of your life they’re impressive.”

Asura fucking squeaks and it’s cute as hell.

How has he got so lucky?

* * *

“Got everything? Got your bentos? Weapons? Homework?”

“They’re not even out kids,” Indra grouches, arms folded across his chest as he resolutely does not look down at the miniature versions of himself and of Asura.

It’s been two days since they’d been introduced; his younger self is still struggling on how to handle their ‘sibling relationship’ and seems to fall somewhere between determinedly ignoring him and asking (begging) for more training. The young Naruto, on the other hand, has taken to both of them like a fish to water, a pig to muck, an Uzumaki to a ramen stand. He can’t exactly blame her; he knows if a long-lost relation of Asura’s who was older than her turned up, then the love of his life would bask in the pampering she’d receive too.

But seeing them off at the academy like this seems a little much, doesn’t it?

“Yes, I’ve got everything,” Sasuke grunts, looking away from Asura’ concerned features with pink cheeks. Well, Indra can’t blame the kid for crushing on Asura. If he’d been introduced to her at the same age, he’d have the same reaction of falling head over heels for her. Power and family warmth in one package? She’s perfect. It’s exactly why he’s dating her (planning to marry and live out the rest of his life with her).

“Heh, it doesn’t matter that we missed two days! We’re so good we’ll catch up in no time!” Ah, the usual pre-genin confidence from Naruto there. It’s nostalgic, really. Indra smiles, nudging Asura in the side, much to her visible irritation.

“Tch, as if, idiot,” Sasuke grunts, taking one last glance at Asura before he spins on his heels, marching for the academy entrance where so many students (and teachers, can’t forget the teachers) are staring at them. Asura must see it too, for she clambers up onto his shoulders without a word to holler after the boy.

“Have a nice day at school, Sasuke! Your big brother and I will be here to pick you up at the end!”

The kid fucking flushes, looking over his shoulder with an embarrassed scowl and Indra laughs, taking a gentle hold of one of Asura’ ankles with one hand, the other reaching out to ruffle Naruto’s short hair.

“Get going. Don’t let that brat put you down.”

“Ah- Will do, Indra-nii!” And then she’s off, bouncing after his sullen younger self, accompanied by a back-pack of homemade food for what is probably the first time ever.

It’s a bloody good thing he knows how to cook, because Asura’s near hopeless in the kitchen. Beginning to teach her how to prepare a meal last night had been pleasant though. A homely activity; one they’ll keep up.

“So, what now?” Asura asks, one hand on his chin, tilting it back until he’s looking her in the eyes. Not exactly the way he’d been expecting to get his head between her thighs, but there’s time for that later.

“I mean, Zetsu’s done, Obito redeemed, I’ve got a meeting with Nagato coming up and with Orochimaru dead, there’s no way that Madara’ll get resurrected. What’s there left to do?”

Indra hums, stroking the sharp jolt of ankle bone in his grasp, turning away from the academy now that the two kids they’re responsible for are inside. It’s a good question. All his life so far, there’s always been a task; overcome Itachi, kill Itachi, avenge Itachi. Defeat Asura, fight with Asura, woo Asura. In fact, he’s not one hundred percent certain he’s completed that last one. Eh, it can be a lifelong goal. He’ll always be able to better himself in that regard, won’t he?

“I’ll bring Itachi home,” Indra muses as his passenger slides herself down and around his body, until she’s once again back on the ground beside him. Their fingers link, hands joined and Asura swings the two limbs back and forth, all happy smiles and sunshine. “Then, you’ll become Hokage and probably do something about the Biju-” she cares for them, doesn’t she? “- and then we’ll spend the rest of our lives in an Asura enforced peace.”

She laughs, bumping her shoulder against his own but she doesn’t retreat from the contact, leaving them standing side by side, looking down the main street of Konoha as it bustles with life.

“… I thought you said you wanted to be Hokage. During the war,” she pitches her voice low in the latter part of her sentence, eyeing him suspiciously and Indra does his best to hide a laugh in the curve of his shoulder. From the look on Asura’s face, he fails.

“I didn’t know what I wanted. Other than you.”

Asura squawks, hiding her face in his arm, her shoulders shaking as her head whips back and forth. “You’re ridiculous, bastard.”

And he takes a leap, pushes that little bit further because that’s what he’s always done. Always pushing his luck, always chasing things he shouldn’t (things he doesn’t deserve) and always unsatisfied.

“You love it.”

And, with Asura’s disbelieving laugh, with her breathy admission of ‘I do, love you that is’, Indra thinks that maybe, he’ll be able to find that fulfilment his life has been missing in her.


	14. Chapter 14

It has been five years since Uchiha Itachi returned to Konoha and, yet, the whole thing still remains a marvel to him. Only a scant handful of people balk at the sight of him now and, even then, they school their instinctive reaction into something more polite. A part of him does feel bad for the lie, but he only needs to look in the mirror and see the Sharingan of his best friend staring back to be reminded he was not the only one involved within that incident. If Shisui has been able to complete his task, if he hadn't been accosted by Danzō... things could have been very different.

Things could have been very different if he didn't have a time travelling brother.

As one of the few propel in on the secret of Uchiha Indra and Uzumaki Asura, there are some days where Itachi does not know how to feel. He's an elder brother, a younger brother. He's a member of the Uchiha Clan again and welcomed home by Sasuke after a hard day's work. Even if he's still on desk duty as an 'advisor' to their new Hokage. He's still unsure if he's really qualified for the role, but Itachi continues to try his best.

He would never wish for another clan to reach the stage his own had, would never wish the blatant distrust on anyone.

"Itachi-san, you wouldn't be considering skipping out on your check-up, would you?"

Itachi stiffens, as if the standard reaction of all ninja to the sugary sweet tones of a medic-nin. Even if he'd had exactly zero intentions of fleeing the hospital. This is, after all, for his health. And he has so much more to live for now than he did five years ago.

"Of course not, Sakura-san." He offers her a gentle smile afterwards, hoping to smooth over the rough edges.

Tsunade's apprentice smiles back, a coy little thing that doesn't match with her action of pulling a needle from her pack.

"Sorry. Instinctive reaction to ninja who're in hospital and staring into the distance. Most aren't as wide as you." Itachi continues to smile back, offering up his left arm for the mandatory blood sample.

They're so close to a cure for him, have managed to prolong his life for at least a decade without it but... he has never dared to dream of a cure, of being healthy, until recently.

  
  


He goes through the standard check-up, answering all of Sakura's questions honestly. He doesn't fail to notice how her fingers linger a little longer than they should on his arm. He does allow his rigid self control to slip just the slightest so that he may lean towards her. She's come a long way from the little genin that'd been placed upon his brother's team. Her puppy crush on Sasuke has been rather cute, though destined for failure. Even if he hadn't known the secret, it was impossible to miss how Naruto and Sasuke had orbited each other, no matter how explosively.

Still, Sakura doesn't seem upset that the duo began dating a week ago. In all honesty, he'd assume she'd moved on, we're it not for his own conflicting feelings-

"Itachi." They both pause, turning to look at the intruder that has walked into Sakura's office.

Indra (his time-travelling 'elder' brother) stands by the door frame with a frown on his face and a tiny child in his arms.

Itachi can feel himself brightening at the sight of the baby, abandoning his seat to make his way over. When he holds his hands out, Indra shifts the child until Itachi can take a gentle hold of him, allowing the baby to nestle into his arms. He's careful to support the head, despite the fact the child is six months old and technically have the neck strength to do it himself.

Little Uchiha Inari peers up at him with deep blue eyes, a stubborn little pout decorating his baby lips. His cheeks are round with youth, graced with the same whisker-line markings that his mother boasts.

He's adorable. Itachi has thought he'd peaked with big-brother status, but uncle has topped even that.

"Are you still on for baby-sitting?" Indra asks, as if he doesn't already know that presenting Itachi with his nephew is a sure-fire way to gain a confirmation for any request. "It's date night."

How this boy grew into the most romantic Uchiha to ever walk the earth, Itachi has no clue. But he's clearly doing something right, what with the fact he's been married for near five years and no wife ever looks happier than Asura. Were it any other couple, the grand romantic gestures would be considered cheesy, excessive an unnecessary. But, they just make it work. They may be some of the busiest people in the village, but they make time for each other. Aggressively so. A lot of couples could learn from them; their own parents could have learnt from Indra, and Itachi only feels a little guilt for thinking it.

"Of course, Indra." Watching little Inari is no chore. More a pleasure.

The little boy yawns, leaning against his chest, baby fine dark hair a sharp contrast to the light purple of his shirt.

"Don't look so glum," Indra grunts and Itachi lifts his head to see his 'elder' brother staring at Sakura. "He doesn't have baby sitting duty tomorrow".

Oh.

Itachi turns back to his blushing medic, a soft smile slowly gracing his lips at the thought that maybe, just maybe, these blossoming feelings that have been growing within his chest during their past year of interactions may be returned.

"Itachi-san, would you like to go out and get some tea with me tomorrow?"

"I would enjoy that, Sakura-san."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it says 12/14 chapters: I'm hoping by posting this, it'll fix it. But, yeah, this is complete.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, it just happened, okay? 
> 
> <strike> because the grumpy pessimist/bubbly optimist, sunshine/serious ship dynamic makes me weak, okay?</strike>


End file.
